


I’d Walk Through Hell For You

by megantod123



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, sadfeels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megantod123/pseuds/megantod123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’d walk through Hell for you; let it burn right through my shoes. These soles are useless without you.” – A Walk Through Hell by Say Anything</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’d Walk Through Hell For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missbraindead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbraindead/gifts).



> Dedicated to missbraindead because this was originally going to be a hell of a lot happier but it was infected by our shared melancholy touch.
> 
> and I base a lot of my works on song lyrics so sorry if the summary is stupid and doesn't make sense 
> 
> JESUS DICKS THIS IS REALLY SAD I'M SO SORRY
> 
> I hope you like it anyway )u(
> 
> \---

Deimos looked deader and deader every time Keeler looked at him. Even when he was with Cain, he no longer hung onto him like a cheap whore. He just looked gone. Like he was empty. Keeler had to admit, he was worried about the Fighter. He knew the war changed some men, but Deimos had always been cold and unaffected. This sudden change in his attitude had been nagging at Keeler for weeks. What had changed?

He decided that maybe a meeting between himself and Deimos was in order. He called him to his office around 1400 hours. Looking at the raven was a bit painful. At that moment, Keeler would have given anything to see Deimos look alive again. He’d never looked _happy_ , per se, but he’d looked better than this. Now he just looked resigned. Done. “So,” Keeler began quietly. “What’s been going on lately?”

Deimos looked as if he wanted to say _There’s a fucking war outside, what do you think has been going on?_

Keeler looked away uncertainly. “I just meant, are you okay?”

Deimos snorted. Did Keeler think he was okay? “No,” he finally answered, and shook his head slightly, before he just seemed to crack open. He put his hands over his face and shook, an almost startled-sounding breath bursting sharply out of his lungs. He didn’t want to feel this anymore, didn’t want these emotions. He didn’t want to love Cain. He didn’t want to hurt anymore; he didn’t want to hurt himself. He didn’t want to know that Cain would never love him and at the same time be unable to stop longing for him. He wanted to forget, to forget it all. He wanted to be somewhere safe and warm and not at war and not in the colonies. He wanted to be safe and happy and it would _never happen_ and he knew that good and well. But still … he couldn’t stop himself from wishing. He tensed, surprised, when he felt a pair of wiry arms wrap themselves around him.

He was even more surprised when Keeler began to comfort him. “Oh no, oh, shh … it’s okay, it’s okay … I’m sorry, I’m so sorry … shh,” he whispered, delicate hands gently stroking Deimos’s back. Deimos was shocked. No one had ever tried to even touch him, unless it was to try to grope him. But Keeler was so warm and smelled clean and safe and Deimos practically melted into him, walls crumbling away. He arms slid around Keeler’s waist and reached up, clutching the back of the Navigator’s shirt. Tears slid down his cheeks and he buried his face in Keeler’s chest. He was so tired of everything. He sobbed dryly, throat aching. He clung to Keeler like a drowning man, so afraid to let go. He never wanted to leave this room. He was so disgusted with himself for breaking down, but at the same time he welcomed this kindness. He’d been so deprived of love, any kind of love, for so long that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. What it felt like to be held, to be wanted. He bit his lip and reached up, roughly wiping his tears away. He felt pitiful and ashamed that Keeler had seen him like this. But what happened next was the last thing he expected: Keeler kissed his cheek.

His lips were even softer then they looked. Deimos blinked at him blearily, but had ceased to be shocked. Keeler was smiling in a serene, gentle way that Deimos could get used to. This was Keeler, not the I-Am-Your-Commanding-Officer mask he usually wore. This was the real, sweet Keeler that Deimos definitely wanted to see more often. Keeler certainly wasn’t Cain, but Deimos didn’t mind that. He didn’t mind that at all. 


End file.
